


Maybe this was love. Maybe it always had been.

by emrosepal



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: College, High School, M/M, Mac Is In Love And No One Can Stop Him, One-sided Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 21:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21380548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emrosepal/pseuds/emrosepal
Summary: He wanted to know whyhewas the one shaking. He wanted to know why his breath picked up. He didn’t want to be embarrassed by the unknown reality of whether or not his heart could he heard or felt by Dennis; all he knew was that he could hear it in his own ears, feel it against his own chest, and it mortified him. Still, he was smiling, head eventually lolling back so that he could look up at him as much as possible from within the hug. Admire him from underneath.the progression of mac's love for dennis. high school through their first little while in their apartment.
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	Maybe this was love. Maybe it always had been.

High school. The first thing that Dennis and Mac realized about each other was that neither of them were into sports. They were too lanky, too clumsy, too prone to losing their focus, their drive, their cool. It was easier to smoke and laugh, their afternoons dedicated to getting remarkably high and watching stupid television instead of running the track or playing some sort of ball. Their initial union was gradual, developed by educational circumstance, a conversation here or an exchange there, until they eventually found each other too interesting to quit interacting with. Mac was the one to make excuses to run into Dennis, downturned eyes brimming with excitement when he caught sight of him from around the corner before their lunch period. He would say something about his friends sitting somewhere else that day (Charlie had a separate lunch and, thus, Mac typically sat alone) and ask if it was okay to sit with Dennis, and Dennis, with a grin as wide as the heavens, pleased with his impact on another person, would quickly agree. They followed this pattern for weeks before an unspoken agreement was come upon: Mac and Dennis would sit with each other during every single lunch period for the rest of high school. 

Every day at lunch, Mac would feel his stomach rock. His chest would be tight, face burning while he rambled to Dennis about the most recent bullshit that he and Charlie had pulled off together, worried that he was being annoying but unaware that his adolescent, nonsensical worship and admiration was mutual in some way. Dennis listened to Mac’s ramblings, chirped in when he felt he needed to, and never failed to give Mac the largest smile he could manage to prove that he had been listening to his every word. This translated perfectly; Mac could never get that smile out of his head.

In the middle of their senior year, Dennis received his college acceptance letter in the mail and opened it in his bedroom, Mac present. Mac could recall the stars in Dennis’s eyes, the incomparable brightness in his grin which was overflowing with confidence, pride, fulfillment, and, perhaps most importantly, _ excitement _. It was something Mac had never recalled seeing before, not this explicitly. But before he could melt into Dennis’s bed at the sight of his happiness, saturating his sheets with the entirety of himself and his own unclear elation for him, Dennis ceased his pacing, hurried over to Mac, and wrapped his arms around his neck, collapsing into him. 

“Dude, I’m in!” 

Mac’s immediate reaction was a small “whoa!” as he was tackled to his back. He recovered and wrapped his arms securely around Dennis’s waist, holding him tightly, tightly, _ tightly _. He pressed his face to his shoulder, which was warm with the energy that had been building up since the letter first entered Dennis’s hand, and his hands held the fabric of the back of Dennis’s shirt, soft and surprisingly not sweaty. 

He wanted to know why _he_ was the one shaking. He wanted to know why his breath picked up. He didn’t want to be embarrassed by the unknown reality of whether or not his heart could he heard or felt by Dennis; all he knew was that he could hear it in his own ears, feel it against his own chest, and it mortified him. Still, he was smiling, head eventually lolling back so that he could look up at him as much as possible from within the hug. Admire him from underneath. 

College. Mac had never received his own college acceptance letter, though this was mostly due to the fact that he had never applied for one. College was not on the agenda for him; it was neither affordable nor an honest desire of his. Why would it be? He would rather sit at home with Charlie and play video games than endure another four years of grueling homework and tedious tasks. Dennis, on the other hand, attended college and kept himself entirely engaged.

It was troubling for Mac and Dennis to figure out how their schedules were going to connect at first. Mac was free unless Charlie dropped by, and Dennis was free unless he had homework to accomplish--something he was surprisingly dedicated to. Mac appreciated the nights where Dennis would call him on the telephone and talk through his homework with him, telling him about the intricacies of his class structures, the content he had been learning about recently, and so on and so forth. Mac listened happily, trying to retain some of the information but becoming confused as Dennis explained too quickly (something he was prone to do about his passions). When it was Mac’s turn to talk, he would talk about everyday matters, such as how bored he inevitably got without Dennis around, the most recent movie he had watched, and how he was looking forward to showing Dennis that movie sometime soon. They spoke on the phone like this just about every other night. 

When campus social life began to engross Dennis, Mac listened to him talk extensively about it. He talked about his fraternity and the pretty women he would see at frat parties, and about how he discovered that he was good at striking up conversations with them--this way and that, left and right. He ended up stuck on a couple of these connections, claiming each time that he might have found a potential girlfriend, and Mac found his chest aching. His hands trembled at the idea of Dennis’s time being occupied by college women entering his life so intimately. But why would that ever bother him? Why was he so intensely jealous? Dennis was not going to stop being his friend simply because he got a girlfriend.

Something told him that there was something more attached to his feelings and to his perception of the situation. He ignored it, in any case, and continued to cherish Dennis in silence.

Each time Dennis gained and lost a girlfriend, he would call Mac. “Sucks,” he’d mumble into the phone, “but I can do way better.”

“You _ can _do better, man.”

“Yeah. Who needs a girlfriend when my right-hand man is so reliable?”

Mac’s face would light up, though Dennis could not see it. His heart would flutter. 

Apartment. Dennis graduated, and while Mac did not work very often (or very hard) while Dennis was studying, he did make mention to him that it would be financially convenient if they rented an apartment together. Mac’s excuse was that they would save money, but he knew deep down that most of his true reasoning had to do with his desire to spend time with him. Dennis, similarly driven by the idea of time together, agreed, and before they knew it they were living in an apartment together. They were alone.

Alone.

Mac had had sleepovers with Dennis in the past, but this was a whole different concept. They would wake up around the same time as each other in the morning and run into each other in the kitchen for breakfast. Mac’s hair would be free of product, not quite messy but certainly not neat, and mornings were the only time where Dennis allowed his own hair to be disheveled. His soft eyes were always heavy with sleepiness, and his pajamas were always a bit too big on him. Mac had not noticed these details immediately, nor had he noticed the inherent domesticity of their shared, sleepy morning states, but when he finally did it was all he could think about. He would go out of his way to make Dennis’s coffee before he was out of bed so that he would have extra time to sit with him and look at him. Take him in. Let his sleepy face, his bedhead, his slightly-too-large long sleeved shirt burn into his brain where he would not forget about it for the rest of the day. 

Mac could do this forever. He could remain perfectly devoted to Dennis. He could stare at him with longing eyes for the rest of time, his gut rocking in the most pleasant and familiar way. And who was to say that he couldn’t? 

Maybe this was love. Maybe it always had been. 


End file.
